In the Dark
by Beautiful Midnight
Summary: What if the life you were living wasn't real? What if it was all just a bad dream? Or could it be that you're living the nightmare?
1. Chapter One Beginning

"Where did we leave off last time?" The psychologist took a short puff of his cigarette. Nasty habit, really. He offered one to the patient lying quietly in the plush red chair, but the other man shook his head, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses before speaking.  
  
"My visions."  
  
"Ah, yes. Are they better now? Is that drug I prescribed helping any?"  
  
He nodded. "They.. aren't so frequent."  
  
"How long have you been having these .. visions?"  
  
"Years. Since I was a teenager. They were only dreams then.. Now they're still like dreams, only I'm awake. "He laughed ruefully. "I haven't dreamt in a long time."  
  
He was afraid to dream in this place. Afraid that he wouldn't want to wake up after glimpsing happiness again in a dream. But then, waking up in itself had become a nightmare lately.. His wife .. God, his beautiful wife. He'd come home from his job as a successful stock broker and walked in to find her on top of his boss, grunting and moaning like a wanton she-beast.  
  
He remembered crying, screaming, being told to calm down, and then he remembered feeling something inside of him snap. His mind was flooded with thoughts and he couldn't seem to pick one out of the din. Did he kill her? No. Should have. Did he kill his boss? No. He could've lost his job over it. No. He beat the fucker in the head with the lamp from the bedside table until he stopped making noises. Never liked that lamp – she picked it out, and he was so in love with her, he just wordlessly handed over his Visa. He remembered seeing his boss' motionless body on the ground, and the terrified look in his wife's eyes, and then he fainted. He woke up in this place. Alone. Crazy.  
  
At least, that's what they told him his life was like. He had other ideas. Another theory. "What if all this is a dream?" He paused. ".. A nightmare?" He asked.  
  
"So I'm not real, then?" The psychologist snuffed his cigarette with a smile.  
  
"No. You are. Everyone is. Just.. not like this. I .. have these visions. Somewhere else.. and it's different. I'm strong. Powerful. In control."  
  
"Oh. The assassins, right?" The man on the couch nodded. "What was the other groups' name?"  
  
"Weiss."  
  
"Mmhm."  
  
He could hear the Quack making notes in that yellow notebook, and he could bet they said something like 'Crazy bastard. Let him rot here.' "..And they respected me."  
  
"Your team, you mean?"  
  
"Yes. And I wasn't crazy." He paused. "I'm –not- crazy."  
  
"Were you evil?"  
  
"Yes." No hesitation. He knew that much.  
  
"-Are- you evil?"  
  
"N.. I don't know." He admitted quietly, absently playing with the hem of his shirt. Hated these clothes. What he wouldn't give to wear a suit again. Just for a little while. Just to have someone respect him again. Missed it.  
  
"I'm going to prescribe something a little stronger for you, Mr. Crawford. It should stop the visions."  
  
Yes, but will it stop the crazy? "Thank you, Doctor Kudou." He stood, eyes flickering towards the two orderlies who had come to take him back to the room he shared with three others – in another world, they were his teammates.  
  
"See you next week." He mumbled as each orderly took an arm of his and escorted him towards his room. One of the doctors was just leaving. No doubt drugging someone up. Brad didn't like him. Bastard had a stick up his ass the size of a cricket bat.  
  
The doctor, a cold looking redhead, regarded Brad coolly and took the new prescription from the orderlies. "Hm. We'll start you on these at dinner."  
  
"Yes, sir." He mumbled. There was a nurse nearby who gave Brad a smile before limping away. Brad had heard rumors about that one – that he'd been a semi-pro soccer player before he threw out his knee and gone to get a nursing degree. How he ended up here, Brad could only wonder.  
  
Then again, he wondered how a lot of them ended up here.  
  
A loud shout from next door made him jump, and the orderlies let go of Brad, rushing in, and a pretty young man was ushered out. Cute. Very cute. He recognized the kid from the newspapers. (They still let him read the papers, thank God. If he didn't get to hear about what was going on in the world, he'd go crazy.)  
  
The boy was Prime Minister Takatori's son, Mamoru. Mamoru's older brother, Masafumi was a patient here. One could assume that Takatori was none-too- thrilled to have a son in a place like this.. To date, Brad had never seen the PM in this hellhole. Mamoru sighed quietly and spoke to the doctor. The nurse spoke to Mamoru in a soft voice and gently touched the boy's hand, leading him out of the hospital. Brad raised an eyebrow. Well. Looks like Takatori would be doubly pissed. Good.  
  
"Takatori." The redheaded doctor muttered in disgust, and grabbed some heavy sedatives. Brad watched Mamoru leave with the cute soccer-playing nurse. They looked like the members of Weis--.. No. That wasn't real. This was real. He walked into his room, vaguely pleased to see his three roommates there. His family. His team.  
  
They were watching Iron Chef on the small television that was bolted to the side wall, and all murmured their hello as he entered. The youngest one scooted over to make room, and with a sigh, Brad sat down.  
  
There wasn't much in the rooms at all. Four beds to a room, unless you were special, or very, very rich. As it was, Brad's wife hadn't wanted to spend all of her money to get him a single room, and figured he'd get gang-raped at some point in time, and that was fine with her. They weren't allowed to have anything on the walls, so basically, the room was the equivalent of boredom. Amusedly, Brad wondered if the designers on Trading Spaces could do anything with this palace of crap.  
  
He was right in his assumption that the redhead had drugged someone up. Jei was staring groggily at the television, blinking his gold eyes a few times and trying to stay awake. They usually kept him pretty drugged up, but when he wasn't, the two of them had some fairly decent conversations. They'd been roommates for two years – he'd been admitted first, and then each one of them joined him. They were a team.  
  
Jei was first. He insisted they called him Farfarello at first, but let his roommates call him Jei in the room. He'd been a child genius, and had been destined for greatness... until he found out his life was all a complete lie. His parents weren't his real parents. His sister wasn't really his sister. It was all a lie. Like Brad, he'd snapped, and gone after them with a knife. None of them had died, but they'd committed Jei immediately. If they'd died, then he would've been sent to a different asylum. Brad shuddered at the thought. A place worse than this.  
  
"How was the session?" Christian asked, turning it down for the commercial. The little one had his head against the German's shoulder, half-asleep from his own medication.  
  
"Too long."  
  
"I'd do him."  
  
"Of course you would."  
  
Christian was next. He was very quiet at first, and wouldn't speak any English towards either Jei or Brad, merely whispering the word 'Schuldig' when they asked him anything. It was three months before they found out it meant 'guilty'. From what he gathered, Christian ran away from home when he was thirteen, and got heavy into drugs and a lot of sex.. His dealer-slash- pimp took too much money, and you know what they say about redheads. Hell hath no fury..  
  
Apparently, Christian poisoned the dealer's drugs, and the man had died. But they didn't have evidence to convict him. There was a reason he was here – he heard voices. Not just the occasional one. He claimed he had the power to read minds, but when given the chance, he'd waved them off, saying there were too many people around. He had good days and bad days – his screaming had woken the two of them up once, and the doctors had to take him away and sedate him heavily.  
  
But he'd been better lately. Brad liked the two of them a lot. And then there was Nagi. To be frank, Brad wasn't sure what the hell was wrong with the kid. He was convinced that he could move things with his mind, but only when he was alone. He was also very, very paranoid.  
  
After a while, he'd relaxed enough to be around his roommates, and they treated him as a little brother. They were a family. A team.  
  
The call for lights out came after dinner, and they obediently went to bed. The room was dark and quiet, except for the soft sounds of Christian snoring and talking to himself in his sleep. Brad's mattress sunk under extra weight.  
  
"I'm trying to sleep, Jei."  
  
The other man's accent sounded thicker in his drugged stupor. "Just one."  
  
Brad obliged, and leaned up for a good-night kiss. Jei smiled faintly and nodded once, touching Brad's cheek in an affectionate manner, heading back to bed. Before he knew it, Brad was the only one awake.  
  
The tears fell before he could stop them, and soon he was sobbing into his pillow. He wanted the other life to be real.. God, he wanted out of this place.. he wasn't crazy. None of them were.  
  
There was a whisper in the darkness. "Brad.. will you tell me another story?"  
  
"All right.. which one?"  
  
"Tell the one about the evil composer." Jei yawned softly. "I like that one."  
  
He nodded and let Jei crawl into bed with him. Snaking his fingers through the cropped silvery hair, he spoke. "Well.. it all started with this one CD.." 


	2. Chapter Two Epilogue

_To Mike: The cigarette-smokin' psychiatrist to my crazy-ass personality. Love you, sugar.  
_

"How are the dreams now, Brad?"  
  
"Fine, thank you, Doctor." Like you care, you stupid asshole. I could be sitting here screaming, ripping my hair out by the roots, and you'd light another cigarette and ask me if I was attracted to my mother.  
  
"The drugs are helping, then?"  
  
"Yes, doctor." Brad wrung his hands. They had been less frequent, but they'd still been pretty bad. His scream had awakened Jei, who had snuck into Brad's bed in the middle of the night. Somehow, the other two had slept through it.  
  
"What's wrong?" Jei had whispered to him, looking frightened.  
  
".. Bad dream."  
  
"Was I in it?"  
  
"...yes." Brad admitted softly.  
  
"..what happened?"  
  
The older man hesitated. "....Do you think that when you die, you'll feel pain?" Jei propped himself up on one elbow and cocked his head.  
  
"I don't know." He said thoughtfully. It was one of the rare moments when he wasn't under the influence of the drugs they gave him. "Was that your dream?"  
  
"Yes." Brad sounded pained. He hadn't felt this way towards another man, and wasn't sure if it was the insanity that was causing it. No. Stop that. You're not crazy. It's a mistake. You're not supposed to be here. It's a mistake. You should be back in your office... Why do you care about these nutcases? ".. Just forget it, Jei."  
  
"... All right." Hurt flashed across the Irishman's face, and he'd gone back to bed..  
  
Brad was snapped back into the reality of the doctor's office by the sound of a lighter flicking. Dr. Kudou would've asked the other man for help, but the last doctor had asked a patient and ended up as a Cajun specialty. Zing! Oh, god. He had to write a book. "Well, I have to say – you're showing a lot of improvement, and I think if you keep up the way you're going, you could be out of here in a couple of months."  
  
His eyes lit up. "Really?" Of course! If he kept taking the meds, he could go back to his old life, and forget this hellhole. And that other life.. No. He wasn't crazy, and now they knew it! He felt as if he could kiss the doctor.. No- there was that whole 'kissing men' thing. He'd have to stop that, or they'd think he was crazy again.  
  
"Yes." Dr. Kudou smiled and took a drag from his cigarette. "As long as you keep taking your meds, the visions should stay away.. I'm going to recommend that you be let back into society.. but I'd like you to keep seeing a psychiatrist, and maybe look into anger management courses."  
  
"Yes.. of course.. "Anything. He'd do anything to get out of here. Maybe he'd even look up his wife.. ex-wife. No. Fuck her. The tramp. He'd get a new wife.. get a new house.. He felt happier than he did in years.  
  
Brad left the office looking thrilled, practically skipping down the hallway. "Hell-o, Doctor Fujimiya!" He called cheerfully, causing the redheaded doctor to stop in his tracks.  
  
".. Let me see your note, Mr. Crawford." Obligingly, he handed the note over, still humming. The doctor made a 'hm' noise, as doctors are prone to do. ".. All right. Go to your room."  
  
He didn't even care. He was going to be out. Out of this place. He could wear a suit again, eat whatever he wanted.. Oh god.. no more cafeteria food. No plastic cutlery. He could go to bed whenever he wanted, and sleep alone. Maybe he'd even come back and visi--.. No. He wasn't coming back here. Ever. Nothing could possibly bring him back here again.  
  
The others were on the couch again, except they looked relatively awake – a change from how they usually were when he got back from therapy. Jei looked up with a smile. "Waitin' for you to get back before I had me Skittles." He held out his open palm, with the five different pills in it, all different colors. "So I'm not groggy."  
  
Brad managed a little smile. How different all of this seemed now, that he was almost a free man. "Go ahead, Jei."  
  
"You look like you're in a good mood." Christian commented. "He fucked you, didn't he?"  
  
Nagi giggled from his spot on the couch, his head on Christian's shoulder. Christian kissed the little one's forehead affectionately and grinned. Brad snorted, sitting on the bed and watching the Irishman take the pills. "Actually, I have good news."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"The doctor says I can go soon. He said in a month, I could be out of here."  
  
There was silence in the room, and then Jei stood up and walked to the barred window, closing his eyes. "... Congratulations." He murmured, in a thick voice. Nagi looked confused.  
  
"..You're gonna leave us?"  
  
Christian stood again, but he looked more angry than the other two. He began to pace quickly back and forth, cursing rapidly in German. "warum das Bumsen sollten Sie aus hier heraus und nicht gelassen werden wir!? Es ist nicht, goddamnit angemessen! Sie hatten ein vollkommenes Leben, und alle wir wurden rüber, Sie Bumsensuburbanite gebumst! Du Arschloch! Ich hoffe, daß Sie Durchlauf rüber durch einen fucking Bus erhalten, sobald Sie erhalten draußen!"  
  
"...What did he say?" Brad asked Jei quietly, who just shook his head. Christian whirled around, glaring at him.  
  
"I said.. 'Why the fuck should you be let out of here and not us!? It isn't fair, goddamnit! You had a perfect life, and all of us were fucked over, you fucking suburbanite! Fuck you! I hope you get run over by a fucking bus as soon as you get outside!', asshole. You don't care about us!"  
  
".. I.. I do!"  
  
"You're not coming back to visit." He stared into Brad's eyes with such a fiery gaze that the older man had to look away. Jei's shoulders slumped, and Nagi's eyes widened.  
  
".. You're not?"  
  
"Of course he isn't, Nagi." Christian said sarcastically. "He's not crazy."  
  
".. I'm not."  
  
"Right." The redhead muttered. "C'mon, Nagi. Jei.. We'll go play cards."  
  
"How's your head?" The little one asked softly. Christian shrugged, and left the room. It was just Brad and Jei left in the room now.  
  
"I thought we were a team." Jei murmured.  
  
"Oh, for God's sakes.. none of that's real, Jei! It's just.. stupid stories."  
  
"It felt real to you at the time. You seem awfully quick to debunk it."  
  
"What the fuck do you know? At least I didn't try to kill my family, you goddamned nutcase!" Brad snapped. As soon as it was out of his mouth, he regretted saying it. Without another word, the silver-haired boy strode to his bed and climbed into it. Brad tried to apologize, but he didn't get an answer. ".. Jei.."  
  
The room was silent, except for quavered breathing in the bed on the other side of the room. Brad sighed softly and turned the TV back on to CNN. He'd get an idea on what stocks to buy.. He'd remake his fortune. Why should he care if he insulted a crazy kid?  
  
....well, that crazy kid had been his friend. But he'd make better friends. Team? Hah. He didn't need them.  
  
True to Dr. Kudou's word, Brad's release papers were signed a month later, and that very day, he was getting ready to leave. Jei hadn't said a single word to him in that month, and good riddance. He could do better. He could do a lot better.  
  
A shout from the kitchen startled him, and he sighed.. God.. He couldn't wait to be away from this place.. Nagi skidded up to the desk. "Come quick!" He cried, grabbing the doctor's arm.  
  
".. Nagi?" Brad felt a tugging at his stomach. This felt so real.. Déjà vu.. No. Just an odd feeling, that's all. Nagi shot him a look and ran off again.. Brad couldn't help it. He chased after the younger boy, stopping short in his tracks. "... Oh god." He starred in horror, mouth agape. "...It came true."  
  
Jei was lying on the ground of the dining room in a pool of blood, trembling with Christian and Nagi trying to get him to stay awake. Masafumi Takatori was screaming at the dying boy while doctors tried to hold him down and sedate him. One of the other doctors dressed the wound, but had already told the others that the knife had gone too deep.  
  
Masafumi had gotten angry when Jei had touched his hand earlier by accident.. The Irishman was reaching for a spoon when their hands had brushed together. No one touched him. They weren't allowed. He had to die. He snuck into the kitchen, punched out the guard there, and stole a knife.. He drove it into Jei's stomach before anyone could stop him.  
  
Nagi wept softly, holding Jei's hand, while Christian was holding back the urge to snap Masafumi's neck. One member of their family was leaving and another was almost dead.  
  
".. Jei.." Brad whispered, sinking to his knees. He knew the blood was staining his clothes, but didn't care. Two sleepy gold eyes turned towards him, and a smile played across the blood-tinted lips.  
  
"... You were right.." He whispered. "..Didn't hurt."  
  
"Jei, just hang on.."  
  
"W.. we're both getting out today.. W..we're leaving together.."  
  
Brad felt the tears streaming down his cheeks, and Christian's hateful gaze, but ignored them both, kissing Jei's lips gently. "Yes.. we are." He smiled sadly. Jei gave a little sigh and began to slump in Christian's arms. "I.. love you."  
  
Jei murmured ".. love .. you." Before closing his eyes one last time. Brad shook his head.. God, no.. why did this have to be the first one to come true? He let go of Jei's hand, already noticing that the skin was getting colder.. The doctors made all the other patients leave, and escorted Brad out of the building.  
  
Brad was in shock, and could barely speak to tell the cab driver where to go. He was staying at a hotel for the night, and then to see his parents.. Hopefully, they'd be happy to see him.. But he couldn't think. Jei was dead.  
  
He sank onto the hotel bed and began to sob softly, burying his face in his hands – the scent of his friend's.. his lover's blood still on them. It felt like he'd be smelling Jei's blood for the rest of his life.  
  
With trembling fingers, he opened the bottle of pills in his suitcase. Plans change.. He took a glass of water from the bathroom and started the task of swallowing all of the pills in the bottle. Slowly, they began to take affect, and before his heart stopped, he whispered 'Farfarello..'.

--------------------------

Farfie opened his eyes sleepily and grumbled at being woken up. ".. What the hell, Brad?" He muttered. Brad Crawford reached for his glasses and sighed.  
  
".. I just had the weirdest dream.." 


End file.
